


A Retribution of Sorts

by poppycostello



Series: Doctor Constable [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppycostello/pseuds/poppycostello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Watson does something surprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Retribution of Sorts

All of a sudden, that double seemed like an awful good idea.  
"And I'm terribly sorry, John, truly I am. But, we have to go now, we have to leave London." She paused, presumably to regain her composure and then plunged onwards," See, the thing is, he has...considerable influence over London and has decided to be more...open about his acquaintances. And, oh John, I am to be so very terribly shamed! I deserve it, I know, it's just, you're never here and he was so very understanding and, oh, but, I'm your wife! I am still your wife and I am begging you to take care of this for me and move to the country."  
Well, at least that statement about understanding put Holmes out of the picture, I thought to myself. Although Holmes's cold logic and reasoning would've been a godsend at that moment as I began to feel those dreaded woman's weapons upon my face.  
"Oh, John, no! Just, just agree to move away, say you'll move and we'll never talk of this again and I'll never be untrue to you again, I swear!"  
"I have a meeting with Holmes tomorrow at 4 o'clock which cannot be moved without allaying his suspicion. After that, then, yes, as your husband, I will protect you from this." I held up one hand in a warning gesture and raised my head to look at her. "Don't ever tell me who he was, "I whispered, "I never want to know who he was. Or I fear he shall be no more."  
All that night and all the next day, I could not get my wife's betrayal out of my thoughts. It was so entirely out of character that I began to wonder if Holmes had experimented on myself instead of Gladstone for once and I was, in fact, still at Baker Street, out cold and experiencing violent delusions. Alas, when I turned onto that very street at 4 o'clock sharp, I could no longer pander to those fancies and resolved to keep the matter from Holmes as he would only gloat.  
The man himself was busying himself amongst a pile of papers and informed me that he intended to visit the opera tomorrow and would I please deign to join him. I replied that I would love to and then settled down in my usual chair, picking up a paper at random and scanning the headlines. One took me completely by surprise and I read it out to Holmes, who didn't seem particularly perturbed.  
"Local girl missing, presumed dead? But, why, that's your girl, isn't it? The one that was here yesterday."  
"Aye, and still is," he answered, " She told me that she intends to run away and so I have told her father that that is what she has done. He isn't too worried about it, she has friends abroad apparently."  
"Holmes!"I reprimanded, "She's a young girl, you can't send her out on her own with no place to go. She told me yesterday that she is innocent of any wrongdoing. She sounded true enough. Can't you prove this to the father?"  
"Why would I bother to do that?"  
"Maybe," I reasoned, "Because it is the right thing to do. And you have put her through rather a lot whilst she has been in your care."  
"Why don't you go and check on her?" he suggested. "Oh, and take this." He thrust a pewter bowl at me and then ushered me out of the room, gesturing as to which room Miss Constable was occupying.  
She was in a much more amiable state of mind than yesterday as she invited me in and poured the tea. I enquired as to her plans of going abroad and she blanched slightly, almost dropping the teapot.  
"Your friends are going to support you, aren't they?" I enquired.  
"Well sir, don't tell Mister Holmes this, for he don't seem to think much of these kinds of people, but my friends are much akin to my father. When they hear that I have run away from Mister Holmes, sir, they will not keep me for long. But it's okay, sir," she added, seeing my worried expression. "I have £100 a year left to me by my late mother and so I will not be hard done by, by any accounts. Sugar?" I shook my head, no.  
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather come and stay with me for a few days to think things through? A young girl shouldn't make rash decisions. I understand that you would not want to stay here. But I am sure that my wife would put you up in one of our rooms for a week or so, at no charge of course." My wife. Suddenly I looked at this young girl in front of me, really looked at her. She was, in fact, extraordinarily pretty, with large green eyes and a mane of copper coloured hair that fell in near perfect ringlets down to her waist. She looked up at me, as if noticing my gaze on her and smiled. A pretty smile, I noted. Not too coquettish and yet not plain either.  
"I have an idea," I proclaimed and stood up with sudden vehemence, "I know how to make your friends and your father accept you, so that you will be free to do what you please." And with this, I strode across the room to meet her, bowl in hand, took hold of her jaw-line in my right hand and kissed her roughly. "I hope this doesn't count as pouncing, "I whispered between breaths, "But it's better than what Holmes had in mind, no?" She murmured an assent of some kind and persisted in kissing me. This carried on for some minutes before I found the strength to break away. I then spat into the pewter bowl with vehemence and promptly left the room, calling for Holmes to collect his specimen.


End file.
